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My name is John Riley |
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I'll have your ear only a while |
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I left my dear home in Ireland |
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It was death, starvation or exile |
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And when I got to America |
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It was my duty to go |
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Enter the Army and slog across Texas |
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To join in the war against Mexico |
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It was there in the pueblos and hillsides |
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That I saw the mistake I had made |
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Part of a conquering army |
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With the morals of a bayonet blade |
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So in the midst of these poor, dying Catholics |
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Screaming children, the burning stench of it all |
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Myself and two hundred Irishmen |
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Decided to rise to the call |
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From Dublin City to San Diego |
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We witnessed freedom denied |
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So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion |
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And we fought on the Mexican side |
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We marched 'neath the green flag of Saint Patrick |
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Emblazoned with "Erin Go Bragh" |
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Bright with the harp and the shamrock |
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And "Libertad para Mexicana" |
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Just fifty years after Wolftone |
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Five thousand miles away |
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The Yanks called us a Legion of Strangers |
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And they can talk as they may |
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From Dublin City to San Diego |
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We witnessed freedom denied |
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So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion |
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And we fought on the Mexican side |
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We fought them in Matamoros |
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While their volunteers were raping the nuns |
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In Monterey and Cerro Gordo |
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We fought on as Ireland's sons |
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We were the red-headed fighters for freedom |
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Amidst these brown-skinned women and men |
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Side by side we fought against tyranny |
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And I daresay we'd do it again |
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From Dublin City to San Diego |
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We witnessed freedom denied |
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So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion |
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And we fought on the Mexican side |
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We fought them in five major battles |
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Churobusco was the last |
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Overwhelmed by the cannons from Boston |
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We fell after each mortar blast |
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Most of us died on that hillside |
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In the service of the Mexican state |
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So far from our occupied homeland |
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We were heroes and victims of fate |
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From Dublin City to San Diego |
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We witnessed freedom denied |
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So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion |
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And we fought on the Mexican side |
